wash my mouth out with soap
by poisonrationalitie
Summary: Percy Weasley was supposed to go far in the world. Audrey Baumgartner was supposed to be successful, too. Now she's a single mother about to confront her past. TW for PTSD, Depression, implied/referenced character death, and Alcoholism.


**12 August 2006**

The rapping on the door had been insistent for the past half hour or so, but Percy had still not risen from his makeshift bed on his parents' couch. They were visiting George and his family for the next two days, leaving Percy home alone tentatively as one might leave home a teenager insisting they can cook their own dinner overnight. It was difficult enough to open his eyes to stare at the wireless, which his mother had set to play a 24-Hour News Channel in hopes it might rouse him. He could scarcely do enough magic to change the volume. He had been housebound near on a month since the incident, and looked to stay that way until Christmas.

"Open up!" a woman yelled, and Percy shut his eyes once more. Everybody important had the floo address. Hopefully this woman would leave and he could drift into another dreamless sleep in peace. The door rattled once more. "Percy Weasley, open up right now or I'll blow open your front door!" He jolted at the mention of his own name, and wondered if it was someone from the Ministry, coming to tell him to get off his lazy ass because they were stopping the owl's money. With a huge amount of concentration, he managed to rub his eye and get into a halfway upright position, leaning his shoulders on the armrest.

"That's it!" There wasn't a blast but a click as one lock unlatched, and more as the others came apart. Percy swallowed, and patted his hair down in an attempt to make his hair look somewhat presentable. Heels clicked on the wooden floor, accompanied by lighter footsteps, and suddenly a familiar face sat across from him in his mother's armchair. Dark hair framed her square features, though she held something Percy had not seen her with previously; a small child, with brown tufts of hair and a skinniness that echoed that of the woman who sat in the chair - Audrey. Her features looked strange on a baby.

"Could have just gotten up and let us in." Her accent had lessened somewhat since she'd last seen him, the German tones fading away. "You look a right mess." He blinked - perhaps he was seeing things wrong. He didn't have his glasses, after all.

"You have a baby," he said.

"No," Audrey said shortly. "Two." She adjusted the smallest one carefully. "Molly! Here!" Percy blinked again. His mother's name. It suited his mother, he thought, but he wasn't certain about how it would fit a child. He couldn't imagine anybody bearing it other than his mother. A roly-poly toddler answered, however, looking much healthier than the baby Audrey carried. Little Molly stumbled into the room, dressed immaculately in a button-up dress with matching shoes and a floppy hat. It's summer outside, he remembered vaguely.

"Mutter," she said, in a high-pitched English voice.

"Congratulations," he said weakly, a plan stirring in his head. Whatever Audrey wanted, an answer to a question or something else, he would give it to her on the condition she helped him up to his bedroom, so he could sleep more comfortably. That was a fair exchange, in his mind. Or else he'd be stuck on the couch until somebody else popped round to check on him. "I'm sorry I couldn't attend the wedding. I've been ill."  
"No wedding. Not married."

"Oh." In truth, he hadn't remembered an invitation, but just assumed. It surprised him, slightly. Audrey was foreign and clever and beautiful, and had always been the object of someone's affections. They had met a handful of times previously, with her coming to England on exchange from Germany to learn more about the system implemented following the war, and the veteran care developed by the Ministry. Percy, in a moment of impulsivity, had volunteered to be part of her study, and for a year or so had been checked on twice weekly and surveyed. It had been nearly three years since it had ended, however, and Percy had long since presumed she returned to Germany upon conclusion of the eighteen-month research project. "When did you return to England?"

"Got a job at UML after research. Never left." She frowned. "We've gone for drinks many times in the past few years." None of this rung any bells of Percy's.

"Why are you here, Audrey?" he asked, head thudding. She swallowed, opened her mouth, paused, and then reached into her bag. Percy stared at Molly. Molly stared back at him, dark eyes fierce. She had red hair, he noted. Audrey's hand emerged gripping a planner, labelled 2003, and reached out to him. He tried harder to sit up, and took the notebook.

"Read it. I marked everything." He looked down at the notes, all in loopy handwriting that didn't quite make sense to him.

"I don't have my glasses," he said. Audrey reached over and grabbed it back from him, sighing.

"Molly's yours."  
"What?"  
"Molly is yours. You are her father." Percy's head was pounding now, his skull throbbing as if it was being whacked repeatedly with a hammer, or spun around like a gnome. Audrey could be funny, at times, if they were both on the grog, but this wasn't her style - practically breaking into his house to prank him with some strange redheaded toddler she'd found. Then again, maybe it was some sort of German humour.

"No, I'm not," Percy said. Then he frowned. "We slept together?" Audrey looked like she might slap him, and he held the blanket up to his chest, as though it might protect him from being anybody's paternal figure.

"Multiple times over the past few years," she said. "Are you drunk?" That was a great question, if Percy was honest. Had he been a professor, he would've given her five points. He looked around, waking up a little, and spotted a small pile of bottles at the base of the coffee table. He didn't remember drinking them, but there they were. Curious, he sniffed his shirt, and found that there was a lingering stench of alcohol. The toddler still stared at him, brows furrowed,

He leaned his head back, rubbed his face into his hand, and sat up straighter again, until he passed for sitting up. He let the blanket rest in his lap and stared at her.

"Audrey," he said, quieter. "I can't be anybody's father right now. I can hardly be a person." He lowered his voice, in spite of their sole companions being two babies who would scarcely understand their words. "You know what I did. I'm a horrible brother, and a horrible son, and I'm no good for a family, alright? Go push your paternity claims on someone else." As soon as the words came out of his mouth he regretted it, and her grey eyes turned harsh and fierce.

"I'm not pushing anything. I'm not - Percy, if I wanted money, good child support, I would look for one of my partners from a wealthy background and a high-paying job," she said, voice clipped. "Your family clings to the poverty line, no offence due, and you are an unemployed lout, apparently a drunk-" she nudged one of the bottles with her toe, "-and threw away a job to wallow in your own self-pity." It was at this Percy stood, patting his pockets for a wand he didn't have.

"If you have come to judge me and my family, get out of this house this instant!" he shouted, drawing himself to his full height. He had grown skinnier and paler in the time he'd spent inside, in all the time since the end of the war, really, or since he graduated, it could be argued, but he retained his height, second in the family only to Ron.

Audrey stood. "They're both yours, Percy. Believe me or don't, do what you like, but they are. When I came around here more often, you'd sit on that very couch and list off all your regrets. Tell me all the things you hated about yourself. All the things you wish you had done differently. These are your daughters. I'm not asking for us to marry. Or live together. I am saying that these are your daughters, and you ought to have a vested interest in them."

It felt like the time they had taken him to the beach by Shell Cottage in the middle of summer, maybe two or three years before, and he had stumbled out of the house, blinking, dressed in black and covered from head to toe, and stupidly he had looked up into the sun, the bright light overwhelming him. It had burned into his retinas, nearly blinding him, but he couldn't drag his eyes away until Bill grabbed him round the shoulders and pulled him away. Later they had set him up on a chair on the beach, and the tide had crept up until it licked at his shoes and eventually crashed over him, and he had been drenched, red curls sagging under the weight. It felt like he had been nearly blinded and half-drowned in salt water.

"The baby's name?" he asked groggily.

"Lucy. Molly and Lucy. Molly's two and a half now, and Lucy's sixteen months."

"Can we get a paternity test?" Percy asked, catching his breath. Looking at the little girls, it seemed impossible they might be his daughters. He had imagined his family from when he was a very little boy; he would be high in the Ministry and have a nice large house, and date a woman from the Ministry for three years before proposing, and they'd plan their marriage for a year or so and have a nice church wedding when they were thirty, or almost. Well, he was nearly thirty, so that bit was right. Then they would have a son and daughter, two years apart, who would both go on to be sorted into Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. It would be nice. Perfect. Planned. Not like this.

"You don't believe me? Fine. Yes, once you get yourself cleaned up. You're not fit to be seen at a homeless shelter, let alone St. Mungo's."

"Help me shower, then?" he asked. "Or else I'll have to get one of my brothers to do it, and I would prefer very much to avoid that." Audrey shrugged, and gently put Lucy on the floor. She procured her wand and cast a handful of spells until she had created a makeshift pen for the girls, and then walked towards Percy, offering her arm. He took it gratefully, now very aware of the fact that he smelt and hadn't changed clothes in near on a week.

He hobbled along, leaning on her, and when they got to the stairs, she half-carried him. His cheeks burned. How had he ended up here? If the Percy of a decade ago could see himself now...They made it to the floor with the bathroom on it, and Percy sat on the tiles while Audrey ran the bath. He stared at the towel rack. A million years ago, or so it felt, there had been more than three towels hanging up there. The twins' favourite prank for a while was stealing his towel and his clothes, and he'd have to yell for Bill to come help him. If he could go back, he would've just dealt with it. It was worth it. He'd do it a million, a trillion times if it meant seeing Fred again.

"Ready," Audrey said. She knelt by his side and gently lifted his shirt. He stretched his arms out above his head and she tugged it off. Why would she want me to be a father? Percy thought. He needed more taking care of than a small child, if only because he had the ability to drink, and every time he came good he'd inevitably derail himself again. He fumbled with the buttons on his pants but her fingers worked quicker, and pulled them down quickly, lifting his feet to get them off. Her eyes flickered down for a second, and then back to his face. A smile's shadow flitted across her lips. "I'm not undressing you entirely," she said. "You can have wet underwear."

She grabbed him by the armpits and he did his best to stand, the world spinning before him. Percy fell into the bathtub, cringing at the feeling of the hot water. It spat up onto Audrey, who took little notice, only casually wiping a drop from her cheek.

"I know I'm pathetic," he said weakly, as she reached for the mint bar of soap. "I'm sorry. Probably not the results you wanted to see."  
"Hm?" she asked, dipping a cup into the water.

"I - I'm proof the system doesn't matter," he said, wincing as she poured water onto his exposed chest. Audrey paused, and stared at him.

"Are you dead?"

"I - well, not physically, but -"

"Then you're not a failure yet," she cut in. "It's thanks to the English Ministry's programme that you're still alive. Therefore, non-failure." He opened his mouth to protest, but she poured water over his head, some slipping into his mouth. He coughed and spluttered, thwacking his chest until it came out. Slowly, he managed to relax as she rubbed the soap against his skin. He could see it peeling off, like a snake shedding.

"If they're mine," Percy said slowly, "why did it take so long? You said Molly is two." Audrey lifted his arm, soaping the soft skin beneath.

"I wanted to be sure they were yours," Audrey said. "Molly is the spit of you, and Lucy I tested with the only two other candidates and both came up negative. I knew you wouldn't be up for it, too," she paused. "I was hoping by now, maybe things would've gotten better. And I thought I could do it myself. It's hard. I thought by now maybe you'd have a job, you'd be out of bed, I don't know. I thought, maybe you'd be better, and want to be part of their lives."

"If they're my children, then you don't get to decide if I deserve to be their father or not, Audrey," Percy said. "You should have told me." Audrey stopped, and dropped the soap into the bathtub, letting it clang against the metal.

"I'm sorry," she said, quieter, focusing her eyes on the fallen bar of soap. "But I'm giving you the choice now, Percy. I know it's late. But they're still little. Lucy especially." Percy looked at her. "I tried to contact you. Through work, except you weren't there. I went to your house. Your old flat. Since Lucy fit from the crook of my elbow to my fingertips. I found you were living here two months back, and I - I just wasn't ready. I'm sorry, Percy."

His fingers trailed along the bottom of the tub, until they found the bar of soap, and closed around it. "Molly and Lucy," he said, almost whispering. "Their birthdays? When are their birthdays?"  
"Molly's on the eighteenth of December, and Lucy the twenty-third of April."

"This isn't how I imagined becoming a father."  
"You think this is how I wanted to be a mother? No. Not to an Englishman, not alone."  
"I'll always be English."  
"But you can help me not to be so alone," Audrey countered. Percy touched the soap against his thigh, rubbing gently. He didn't remember the last time he had bathed himself like this. "Don't you want to be better?"

"Don't say that rubbish," Percy said. "I only found out I had daughters this morning, you can't blame me for that. Hell, we're not even certain."

"We've been over this." Audrey scrunched her nose and pulled over a stool to sit on. It had been for the shortest child, whomever that was at the time, to help them stand as tall as the others when they would all brush their teeth together, elbowing and pushing and shoving. If he remembered correctly, it had a little Quidditch player painted on it, tossing the Quaffle in the air every so often.

"Will they be alright in that little pen you conjured?" he asked, remembering that the girls in question were downstairs. Audrey tossed her head as if they were behind her, then turned her attention back to Percy.

"They usually are," she shrugged. "I don't like to do it, but I have to get peace and quiet somehow. If anything bad happens, my wand will start vibrating."  
"That sounds very useful."  
"Yes. Look, I know this must all sound like-"

"Like you're joshing me?"

"Joshing?" Audrey frowned, knitting her eyebrows together. "I don't understand."

"It sounds like you're lying. Pulling a pr- joking." The p word felt like someone had scattered ashes on his tongue, and his vision blurred, thinking becoming physically painful. He must've looked unsteady, for Audrey grabbed his wrist, holding him down, grounding him. Her pulse beat through the thin tips of her fingers.

"Hey," she said, gentler. "Percy. Listen. What were your plans this morning?" He shook his head.

"No. None."

"Right. And now you're here, taking a bath, getting clean. It's a step forward. A step better. Things will get better, Percy." She took his other wrist in her hand, grey eyes meeting his, fixing him with such intensity that he wanted to look away. But no, he couldn't; he had seen it before in Ministers for Magic, in high-ranking officials, in his mother, in Death Eaters and he had seen Voldemort's eyes with his very own, however blurred by tears his vision may have been. "My study is to show that these bumps aren't failures. They aren't proof we should take programmes like this away, because things will get better. They always do. Percy?"  
"Yes?"  
"Do you believe me?" she asked. Her features had softened somewhat, now that she wasn't so angry. His lips parted slightly, taking a deep breath, and she leaned forward suddenly. Her face crashed into his, and he found himself being kissed, for the first time in a while. He felt dizzy again, but a small, rational part of his brain that still clung to him whispered, it's oxytocin, and dopamine, all the chemicals. He didn't shut his eyes. After a few moments she pulled back, blinking.

"Will you try? To get better?" she asked. Percy fingered one of his curls, which had grown past his ears as of late. He smelled significantly better now than he had before. Audrey had helped him, not just now but in the past, too. And this was a chance. He was nearly thirty, and had planned to be much further in life by now. He'd be a fool not to take it.

"Yes."


End file.
